FOWOT(Fear Of What Others Think), SO WHAT!

photo cred: internet

Yesterday, I spent a rare few hours with my middle child, Lily.  We were out looking for flowers for her wedding and we were having lunch at Chick Fil A.  As we were sitting and chatting and texting and sharing lunch together, I noticed a dynamic going on at two tables near us.  Both tables had mothers with young children, and those children were in the playground area, “socializing with other kids.”  What struck me and pierced my heart so much was  one table had a mother by herself, and the other table was a table of three moms, talking mom talk.  Sharing struggles, dreams, and advice.  The lone mom at first seemed to be fine, checking her phone and waiting for her little one to come and receive assurance that she was still there, and that it was ok to play, and maybe to grab another nugget before getting back to the work of childhood.

As Lily and I sat longer I started studying the dynamics deeper and I realized the lone woman was looking over at the table with the moms and the longer we sat there,  the lonelier she became.   You could see the isolation settle on her shoulders as the fog drifts in over the lake in the cool of the morning.  Her eyes seemed almost on the verge of being teary and I could see her lean in and I could see the things that she wanted to interject into a conversation,  if only there had been someone to listen.  They rolled across her face like the stock market ticker in Times Square.  “Yeah, does your little boy have trouble getting his shoes on?”  “Do you sometimes wish your husband would look at you like he use too?”  Do you ever summit Mt. Laundry?” and “Will the days always drag on into the next, leaving me in the wake of my life?” 

 I felt the need to pray for her and I told Lily to close her eyes and be silent and I would pray silently for her loneliness.  I asked God to comfort her, to show her that she wasn’t alone, that she was loved, and to bring her a lightness.  I asked him to bring a friend in her life that would help her through all the ups and downs over the next years in the trenches of motherhood.  We all need a wingman.  Sometimes it can be your husband or your mother, but what if you don’t have one?  What if you need a friend who is in the same battle, maybe even a bit ahead and can offer camaraderie. 

When I said my silent amen and opened my eyes, I saw her countenance was brighter and I could see that her child was waving to her from the play area.  I could sense that God answered my prayer for her, for the moment.  Although she wasn’t immediately presented with a new buddy, her child had the inspiration to grab her attention and wave to her.  I think God did that for her, just to let her know she was noticed and loved, and she means something to someone.   I’m sure her reprieve was temporary, but it was a reprieve, enough for the fog of isolation to lift.  

Lily and I left the restaurant and I started playing my tunes.  I said, “Hey Lily you want to hear my new anthem?  I played if for your father a few weeks ago, you should have seen his face!!!”  She looked at me with a quizzical glance and I turned on a song that is rowdy and raucous.  It is by a pop singer who is known for her salty, colorful language and catchy dance tunes.  The song is loud, bawdy, crass, and in your face and it makes me laugh every time!  I played it for her, and I laughed so hard at her reaction that I had to snap a pic before she had time to compose herself.   

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

“Mother!!! That is sooooooo inappropriate,” she scolded.  “I can’t believe you listen to her and that you would tolerate her language!  You would have never allowed us to listen to her!”  I said, I was homeschooled but it’s ok, I’m cool now.  She said, “What?? We were homeschooled, you homeschooled us.” And I replied, “no honey, I was just as homeschooled as you, but it’s ok, we survived!”  She shook her head and laughed, and we continued on with our driving and awesome driving dance moves.  However, much to my dismay, I received an admonition that I will not be allowed to offer any songs for the wedding reception playlist, unless they are G rated.  “Ok, my dear, it’s a deal!”  I smiled.

I began thinking about my declaration, “I was homeschooled, but it’s ok, I’m cool now!”  Where did that come from?  Well, as mother’s we are all schooled, and we don’t even realize it.  We are learning how to be mother’s, how to raise independent, well adjusted people, and it’s our children and our sphere of influence that are training us. Our children are training us to have courage.  And when we are doing our jobs of mothering and we don’t like our children’s actions, we find a way to encourage different behaviors.  We don’t know how to do that instinctually, most of the time, we have to study, and seek advice, and read books.  We don’t know how to act at Mom group functions, so we sit back, observe, take notes, try out an acceptable personality, wear the right outfits, until we feel as if we conform enough, not to be noticed unfavorably.  And by the way, it’s just not us mom’s, WE are ALL being schooled, all the time!

Let me talk about it…. about “Group Sociology” and the “Herd Mentality”.  We learn at an early age how to behave acceptably within our culture.  We all live in little subcultures, depending on our socioeconomic level, our education level, our childhood experiences, our hobbies and interests.  We find groups that we feel comfortable in.  If we feel as if we are marginalized or outcasts on the fringe, we find more vocal groups that make us feel included.  We find those “militant” groups who massage out the pain of loneliness and alienation by claiming they are our tribe and they have our back.  We settle in and attend meetings and rally around each other and band together against “those others” who obviously are lost and don’t understand we have found the path to enlightenment!   

I have often felt alienated and on the fringe, actually for the majority of my life.  I was adopted, a tomboy, the daughter of a mentally ill father, a South St. Louis city kid, the list is endless.  I never really fit in anywhere, so when I began homeschooling, I figured it would be more of the same, and it was for a while. I received all the comments about how I was damaging my kids and blah blah blah, but then I found a group who was filled with like-minded people and suddenly I was no longer on the fringe.  I had a tribe, a posse, and we were fighting the good fight together!

It wasn’t long into my homeschool mom career that I realized my group was as militant as any other social justice organization.  I use that term “social justice” to describe those who are disenfranchised from the “normal” way of life as prescribed by the American culture.  You know the:  step into the rat race like everyone else and do things like everyone else or you are weird… mentality.  We were rebels to the cultural norms.  We weren’t violent in action, out for blood and vengeance, but I believe we wanted to be heard, accepted, and respected.  The values we espoused are not bad, in fact, for they most part they are noble, worthy, and as American as the apple pie of olden days…”God, Family, Country”... "God Bless America"... and all that.  

The homeschool community has its own culture, norms, values and unwritten codes.  They are for the most part, honorable and admirable.  But make no mistake, there are watchmen on the wall and if you don’t adhere to those accepted ideals, if you dare to question, you will find yourself on the wrong side of the “Board of Education” metaphorically.  There is corporal punishment and it is

photo cred: internet

the same “socialization mechanism” of the public school and society in general.  Act out of turn, question the status quo, be independent-minded and you will be called out about it.  Indeed, homeschoolers are socialized, contrary to the general American popular culture’s opinion.   

As with all groups, there is a primary desire to attain greater good.  But there is also a sinister underbelly.  That is true, because groups are man-made and man-led and man is fallible and selfish and prideful, naturally.    We humans have this innate sense of needing to please people, to be admired and put up on a pedestal and we suffer from FOWOT.  Fear Of What Others Think. To that,  I say, So What!   

If we would own that mantra:  FOWOT, SO WHAT and recognize we are only playing to an audience of one, our Creator, who created us just as we are, who knows what we could accomplish.  He put us right where we are in time, space, and relationally, on purpose.  Let that digest.  He’s perfect, makes no mistakes and we are not mistakes.  It doesn’t matter what the other creations think of us, only what our Creator does!  Do we worry about what trees think of us?  Do we worry about what our cars think of us?  Are we trying to impress our material possessions?  I think not, so why then, do we let other created beings…people, dictate how we feel about our worthiness and importance, and if we are good enough for some arbitrary standard? 

The sinister underbelly of homeschooling is a kind of Mafia.  Its unwritten code is perfection.  The created’s version of perfection, not the Creator’s.  He already knows we aren’t nor ever will be perfect.  No, the Homeschool Mafia consists of busy body enforcers, Miss Know It All and Miss Holier Than Thou, Miss Toe the Line, Miss Color in the Lines.   If you dare cross them, they will be at your door to take you down a notch or two. If you don’t fall in line, and if your kids don’t measure up, whether it is in their manner of speaking, biblical knowledge, grades, clothing choices, music choices, yada yada yada, well you will find yourself getting your dose of socialization.  You will get the silent treatment, be ostracized, banned, shunned, or if you aren’t too far off the mark, just a shake of the head and a tsk tsk, by those who obviously have a better reading on the pulse of the Lord.  

photo cred: internet Godfather Movie

More importantly, if you aren’t careful, you can get sucked into becoming an enforcer without even realizing it.  It’s like the old frog and hot water fable.  I will admit, that I have been one of those enforcers, at some points, tisking and tasking at a poor soul who did not meet the Homeschooling Mafia Code.  I have no excuse other than it just happens.  I wasn’t diligent in recognizing I have received more than my fair share of grace and mercy and therefore I needed to remember to offer it.  Surely, you can see how it happened to me, I finally had a tribe and I wanted to keep it.  But I will tell you, it’s a heavy burden.  It steals your joy and your understanding of how loving God really is…. how much He loves each and every one of us goof-ups, because He made us! 

It was not all bad, my homeschool mom experience, and I have made most of my dearest friends in that community.  It's just that we as people tend to get into these cliques and forget why we found others like us in the first place.   We look to groups to feel like we belong, to feel understood, and accepted for who we are.  I thank God for the ability to have spent all that time with my kids and I wouldn't have changed a thing...except maybe not been so worried about fitting in.  

One day, while looking around as I was nearing the end of my journey in home education, it dawned on me that God hand picked me to raise my children, just as He handpicks everyone to raise their individual children.  He did that because He knows our strengths and weaknesses and how each of our character traits and experiences will form and mold the next generation to be able to do the purpose, He intentioned for them, when He was knitting them in the womb.  Wow, let that sink in!  Yes, God loves me, a person who tries to color in the lines, and tries to please Him.   But He also loves my rowdy, raucous, irreverent pop star just as much.  It was He who gave her the vocal ability (and for the record (see what I did there haha) I wish He would have dished me up some of that) and the desire and talent to make music.  He loves her, plain and simple, despite her failings, just as He loves each and every one of us. 

It occurred to me that for the most part, I think we all are doing the best we can.  We are all trying to raise fairly well-adjusted kids, who are independent and kind and who can make a difference in the world.  We must remember that our children are not trophies to our success.  They are individuals created in the image of God and they are His trophies to shine and burnish or to let tarnish and to display where He sees fit.   I think that homeschoolers, and other Christians also try to do as Jesus asks, “to go and make disciples of all nations.”  The problem lies in our method of doing so.  Why is it that Christians, and most homeschoolers find it necessary to brow beat others into submission? Jesus did not make his twelve disciples in that manner.  He did not brow beat, manipulate, or bend them into submission.  He introduced Himself and then made the offer to follow Him.  I say, that’s all He expects of us.  We are to explain and proclaim the Gospel, while the Holy Spirit transforms and claims the willing hearts.

The trouble comes from that disease of FOWOT.  We start worrying about how we look, how many souls we saved, do we attend enough bible classes and God is saying SO WHAT!  The reason is because when you are on the road to making disciples and your compass heading is influenced by FOWOT and pride, and that pesky need to control, then you are going to swing wide to the right and the left and knock others out of their lane.  They have a purpose and a destination as well, based on His indwelling.  However, If we keep love and compassion as our compass heading, we stay in our own lane and God can do His magic to us and through us.  

When living under FOWOT, we will never find contentment, fulfillment, and we will never reach our God given potential because we are living under fear and not living in faith.  If we live under FOWOT, we are long on orders and judgement and short on mercy and grace.  The Creator is Mercy and Grace, so let fear go and let faith grow.   Other people do not know the mandate God has built into each of our imperfect hearts, and why we are the way we are, and why we have the families we have, or why things happen the way they do.  But know in confidence God knows and He loves you, just the way you are.  There is no need to try and impress Him.  He already is, He looked at you and said “it is good!”  and moved on to the next one.     

Perhaps if we decided to ask “how can I enrich your life and what can I do for you?” to each person we meet in our day, be it family, friends, or strangers rather than “what can you do for me?” maybe we all would feel loved and respected, and not on the fringe and disenfranchised.  Maybe the need for “like-minded” groups would become obsolete because we would all be like-minded, in that we would celebrate each other’s gifts and talents and quirks and marvel at them as a holy creation created by a Holy Creator, rather than something that needs to be changed and twisted and conformed to some unwritten code. 

So, armed with my new mantra:  FOWOT, SO WHAT!  I say, “sing on my rowdy pop star and play it again!”  Then I’m gonna say to you:  Miss Know it All, and Miss Holier than Thou, and all the other Misses, especially  Miss Trying to Make it Through Another Day…. hang in there!  It’s almost summer and you don’t really need to worry, because you have the most compassionate, brilliant, loving tutor at your disposal.  His name is Jesus and class is always in session, just raise your hand.

PS I wrote a book on all the things my Tutor has taught me as well as my amazing Mother.  I'm hoping to get it published soon!  Stay tuned!

Me and My Shadow

Can I just say…..”THANK GOD THE WINTER HOLIDAY SEASON IS OVER?!!!!”  I absolutely hate this time of year.  Let me clarify, I do not hate what Christmas represents:  the birth of our Lord and Savior, but I hate what it has become in our collective cultural consciousness.  I could say I hate Thanksgiving and New Year’s Eve equally, as well.  No other holidays put as much pressure or have the ability to send us into a pit of despair as much as the Winter Holiday Trinity.  At least for me, that is.

I was trying to determine why that is and I think it has to do with the fact that those holidays revolve around family and being enfolded in the warmth, love, and acceptance of those closest to us. It’s a time where we assess the success of our lives.  It’s a time where we evaluate our worthiness.  It is also a time where we may find ourselves lacking, maybe in the deepness of connection or with estrangement in our relationships.  For some reason this time of year shines a glaring spotlight on what we feel we don’t have enough of, whether it be material things or relationships.  We make lists and take inventories, in order to start over, to be better in the new year.  The air is filled with songs that evoke nostalgic feelings of love and togetherness.  The essence of those songs are nostalgic to us all, even if what they describe never happened to us individually, because they are ingrained in our culture.  The nostalgia stokes the home fires and strums the heart strings, drawing us into a longing for the warmth, love, and happiness of days gone by.  They keep us looking backward, all the while invoking the fantasy of "happily ever after".  

Our society has a hang up with "happily ever after".  We foster the idea in our little girls, especially.  To grow up and find Prince Charming and live happily ever after, as Princess in her own fairy tale.  And so too we foster it in our expectations of the holidays.  A time for miracles and family, all gathered in love and harmony.  While those ideals are all well and good, they are elusive to many.  Traditional family is almost a thing of the past.  Most families today, have experienced serious sadness and division.  Divorce is rampant.  Loss is often felt more poignantly during this time, and instead of feeling grateful for family, we end up feeling the loss more acutely and abundantly.  I don’t think I’m too far off the mark when I use the term “we”.  At this stage of my life, it is inevitable to experience loss.  Paul and I have experienced a great deal of death and loss.  We have lost my parents, his parents, the majority of my aunts and uncles, and now our son.  We are not special in that regard.  Many friends, family, and acquaintances have suffered bitter divorces, deaths, debilitating illness, or some form of loss, and they too, know grief. We all know grief in some form, because we all live in the realm of a finite human existence.   

Our last Christmas with John, 2016 (Left  to right:  Olivia, Lily, John, August)

This season took me by surprise though....how hard it was going to be.  I wasn't expecting it because this was to be the second holiday season without my son.  I thought for sure, my children, husband, and I would have come to acceptance and been on the mend by now.  Last year we were all numb, and there was no expectation for any great celebration, because John’s death was fresh and only six months old.  But here we found ourselves, on the threshold of the season of “family gatherings” and completely unsure of how to navigate.  We found ourselves in uncharted waters without our bearings.  I can say for myself, that I have been unable to be a beacon for anyone.  I told Paul, apologetically so, that it was all I could do to keep my head above the swells and that I could not carry him through this season.  He, in his stoic style, dove deeper into his life preserver of keeping busy with his new duties in the officiating world and with his job.  The kids have coped with their issues, by staying busy with their school work, jobs,  and connecting with friends.   I was quickly discovering that what should be the happiest time of year, was turning out to be a desperate time of year for me. 

Paul and I talked and decided we would spend Christmas away from home this year.  I couldn’t bear putting up the Christmas tree.  That was always John’s favorite thing to do.  He was in charge of the tree trimming, and without him and his childlike glee in doing so, I had no spark or desire to do it.  Also, Olivia would be starting her Police Academy training the first of the new year and Lily would be finishing her nursing degree next December.  We knew that both of them would likely be working next year, since crime and sickness don’t observe Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s Eve.  We felt this was our last hurrah, so we gathered the kids and told them we were going to have our last real family vacation over the Christmas break. Paul used all his airfare points to get our plane fare and he managed to find cheap hotel rates in Key West, since peak season begins after New Year’s down there.  Everything fell into place perfectly, and I thought this was our solution to escape the storm of despair that was brewing on the holiday horizon.  How wrong I was!

While our social media pictures might have looked as if we were having the time of our lives, it was not the whole truth.  And, isn’t that so often how it goes with social media?  Pictures that portray a perfectly false reality, and not necessarily with the intention to deceive, at least on my part.  For several of those close to me, knew there were struggles and those who didn’t know, could not see the cracks through the glossy, smiling pictures we posted.   Why would the world think anything less?  We stayed in a beautiful resort and ate at nice restaurants.  We went parasailing.  We held baby alligators and rode on airboats through mangrove forests.  We kayaked through the sound and saw the native flora and fauna.  We walked the quaint neighborhoods of Key West and saw sights and heard sounds that we would see nowhere else in the world.  Yet, we flowed through it all numb and dazed, as if shell shocked.  My son August, was difficult and distant.  He was surly and a wet blanket about every activity.  By Christmas Eve I had had enough of his childish antics. 

He and I were in the hotel room alone, while Paul and the girls went to pick up our pizza, and I confronted him.  I was not as compassionate or empathetic as I should have been, I realize now. And he has since apologized in his maturity and strength of character. But that evening he began to cry and told me that this was not a family vacation to him, because John was not with us.  He said It was scary to him, because he realized we would never again have a family vacation, as he knew them to be.  He said he didn't want to go on this trip, because he wanted things to feel like a normal Christmas at home.  The kind he had always known.  

It was the confession of my boy, through his gasping sobs and heart wrenching tears, that I realized the truth.  We can run, but we cannot hide.  The shadow of grief is just that, a shadow and it is sticking with us.  A shadow by nature is the dark side of light.  Light shines on an object and casts a shadow, a copy of the original. It follows and haunts and is inescapable.  I also recognized that while it is inescapable, it does not have to overpower us and it doesn't have to be a bad thing.  It can never get out in front of us, it is the past.  All we have to do is keep looking ahead.  The shadow cannot overtake us, as long as we remember its place.  It is good to acknowledge it and then keep moving on. 

Not only had I been dreading Christmas, I had also been concerned with the week after Christmas.  In years past, Paul had those two weeks off of work and the kids were all home and it was an extended family staycation.  We spent a lot of time together.  But times have changed, circumstances have changed, and the kids have grown up.  I was not interested in being home alone, while everyone was away doing their thing.  And I sure didn't want them hanging around babysitting me in pity.  I dreaded the thought of being alone at home with the ghosts of Christmas pasts.  So, in my panic to escape the pain of the holidays, I signed myself up for a yoga training class in Palm Springs, CA.  I convinced my friend to go with me, because while I can do things alone, I would rather share the experience with someone.  

We went to Palm Springs and I stretched myself, literally and figuratively.  I had fun and I learned a lot.  I met new people, made new friends, and saw new sights.  My friend and I are like Lucy and Ethel, from I Love Lucy renown, and we enjoyed creating comedy out of chaos.  But on my flight home, the same realization I had with my son in the hotel room came to me again.  I recognized that I had not escaped what I feared. For, when all the distraction is gone, I’m still in the world by myself.  I’m still alone in my grief.  I’m still finding my way to a new normal and that takes time.  The good news is that I have hope, because I'm really not alone after all. I have a shadow and it is an extension of me.  It is the experiences that have helped to grow me into the woman that God has designed me to be.  Growth does not occur without death, which is nothing more than a catalyst for change, and change is good.  It can be painful and it can be scary, but in the end it is good and serves a purpose.

In my selfish desire to escape my distress from the holiday season, I forgot that painful things live within each of us and affect us individually and in different ways.  What may seem upsetting for some…putting up a Christmas tree, celebrating with estranged family members over a meal, listening to nostalgic music, may be the healing balm to another.   I guess what I need to remember is that we all have a hard time and we all need the space to move through it in a way that feels right for each of us.  The most important thing is that we need to talk about it and acknowledge it rather than to try and run from it.  And we need to keep a spirit of gratefulness in all things.  Because great things did happen this season! 

I was able to spend a enchanting evening experiencing the childhood excitement of Christmas fun with my friend and her younger children. I spent a lovely, warm, and cozy afternoon making Christmas cookies with another friend's kids.  My daughter’s and I shared the exhilarating experience of parasailing.  My teenage son and I shared a rare intimate moment of honest vulnerability.  Our family was able to witness our youngest daughter get engaged and we are growing with the addition of a new son and his family.    Paul and I shared a wonderful dinner and laughter with our children and their significant others, one evening over the break.  I had lunch with my old friend from college days, and we spent the afternoon catching up, laughing, and picking up right where we left off.  I found that we all managed to live through the holidays with shared joy and grief and we are the better for it.

So here we are....the first week of January 2019 having already come and gone and it’s another bittersweet anniversary, because today is my late dad’s 85^th birthday.  But I have memories of him and that is a gift. I  can tell it's going to be a year of growth and  richness.  I have already learned so much this year and I think by sharing these lessons, others can benefit.  I've learned that while in my finite human existence I may lose family, I also gain family, because family is not dictated by heredity alone and does not have to be traditionally defined.  The idea of family is relative, literally.  It is those people in our lives whom we love and that love us back.  And our time with them is special all year long, not just over the holiday season.  I've learned that I'm never really alone, for I have a shadow, who at first appears to be weighing me down, but who is actually propelling me forward in newness and change.  I just need to remember to acknowledge my shadow while looking ahead, with hope, to the future.  I need to stay present and enjoy the sweet moments when they happen. And most of all, I need to remember to embrace the pain with joy and gratefulness.  For life is bittersweet, and we will never know the sweet, if we don’t taste the bitter.

drb 1/7/19